


Willing to explore new opportunities

by wtfkovah



Series: Sweater Vest Stories [10]
Category: SEVENTEEN (Band)
Genre: Age Difference, Aged-Up Character(s), Boss/Employee Relationship, Cute, Eventual Romance, Fluff, Gift Giving, M/M, Misunderstandings, Out of Character, Pre-Slash, Valentine's Day
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-24
Updated: 2020-06-24
Packaged: 2021-03-04 01:08:01
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 15,633
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24895159
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wtfkovah/pseuds/wtfkovah
Summary: Valentine's Day at Choi Corp
Relationships: Choi Seungcheol | S.Coups/Lee Jihoon | Woozi
Series: Sweater Vest Stories [10]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1736101
Comments: 42
Kudos: 260





	Willing to explore new opportunities

Seungcheol is dreaming when the doorbell rings.

He doesn't remember much about the dream once the racket jolts him awake, just a few fuzzy after-images. There's his mother, smiling with such a complete lack of disappointment that it must be a hopeless fantasy or a memory from years ago. There's also, for some odd reason, a dancing bear, and even more disturbingly, naked Wonwoo.

That's like cold water in the face, and he rolls out of bed, his brain instantly online, and stumbles out of the bedroom and down the corridor.

He is far past the point of vanity—that had faded about a decade ago—so he doesn't particularly care that the robe he dons is old and shabby, that he’s answering the door with a spectacular case of bedhead.

Only Janna really has the balls to bother him on his day off. And only Janna would arrive on a Sunday wearing a floor length ball gown and a full face of makeup. Leaning in Seungcheol's doorway, half-smiling. Holding a bottle of….. _champagne_?

"Aren't you going to invite me in?" She asks with a wicked smile.

"Why are you dressed like that," Seungcheol says, brilliantly. "It’s _Sunday_ for fucks sake."

"Do you like it? I just bought it and I couldn’t wait to try it on," Janna says, giving him a little twirl. Then she pats him on the cheek and grins, that sharp conniving old grin of hers. “Be a dear and carry my shopping bags in, will you?”

Seungcheol scoffs but obliges her, stepping aside to let her in, then wrestling with over two dozen of her shopping bags. He feels instantly 29 again, instantly deferring to Janna's air of authority like he hasn't in over a decade.

"I thought we agreed you would cut back on your spending," Seungcheol manages, with somewhat less vim than he intended.

Janna waves a hand. "I know, I know, but then Celia broke up with her boyfriend and I had to cheer her up. So we went shopping, and well, you know how it goes," She says, then stops sashaying across the room to turn her head this way and that, surveying Seungcheol’s newly decorated, albeit messy apartment with great calm, as though it hasn't been radically transformed since the last time she set foot in it.

"Wow, finally you’ve done something with this space. I’m impressed Cheollie, though I am a little surprised by the number of plants you’ve got here. Poor things will probably be dead by next week."

"They’re succulents." Seungcheol huffs, letting the shopping bags drop to the floor. "They don’t need love and attention to keep living.”

“Perfect for a life with _you_ then," Janna drawls, sashaying the rest of the way into the kitchen.

Seungcheol glares at her back but follows, leans against the door was and watches as she digs through his cupboards for glasses.

“It’s a little early to be drinking, don’t you think?”

“We’re celebrating," Janna offers carelessly, giving him a smile over her shoulder that is equal parts cheerful and sadistic. Expertly popping the cork on the bottle, she pours out two full glasses before holding one out for Seungcheol to take.

“To my new plan." She toasts.

Seungcheol takes the glass, eyes narrowing suspiciously, “What plan?”

Janna’s expression doesn’t waver in the slightest other than a politely interested eyebrow raise. When she lifts the glass to his lips, her sip is measured and neat, not bracing and long, but Seungcheol gets the feeling she’s preparing herself for something anyway.

Something he’s not going to like.

“Look,” She finally says, raising a hand to display her neatly manicured nails. “I know I said I’d sit this one out, especially after you were so rude to me last time, but then I thought—no. I can’t do that. I can’t just sit back and let Seungcheol be a big dumb _lonely_ idiot for the rest of his life. I love you too much to let that happen. So me and Celia drew up a new plan to get you and Jihoon together, and this time it’s full proof.”

Seungcheol keeps a rigid control over his face, adopting the slightly threatening blankness that's been his first line of defence for years. 

“Janna—stay out of it.”

“No, I don’t think I will.” Janna asserts with perfect seriousness, “You’re in love with him Seungcheol, and after I took him out for Lunch yesterday, I know for certain he’s in love with you too.”

The way she just says that, so _sure_ of herself gives Seungcheol pause. He’s expected this kind of revelation to maybe...freak him out, but it doesn’t. He’s weirdly okay with it, even though it’s kind of terrifying as hell – because Seungcheol has been a first-class sinner since grade-school and Jihoon is a literal _angel_ —but it’s also sort of heady and wonderful, to know that these ridiculous feelings aren’t his alone. It feels a bit like a victory, some thrill of knowing he’s not ready to act on yet.

He takes a moment to prepare himself mentally, before he answers, “Even if that _were_ true, it’s not exactly something I can act on.”

Janna folds her arms like a petulant child. A petulant child in head to toe Versace.

“Do you know how many sentences he started with Seungcheol said this, Seungcheol said that, Seungcheol is the sweetest man I know? It was a Seungcheol love fest for two and a half hours and I promise you I didn’t have to give him any encouragement. He cares about you _deeply_ , and I can’t just sit back and let you do nothing about it. He deserves better than your careless disregard.”

Seungcheol shakes his head in annoyance. “I’m not _disregarding_ him, I’m just—”

“What have you got him for Valentine’s day?” Janna interjects sharply, poking him in the chest.

Seungcheol fails to find the motive behind the question.

“Uh, nothing. You know I don’t celebrate that shit.”

“ _Eugh_ , typical,” Janna grunts, giving Seungcheol the 'you're unbelievably stupid' look. “This, this is why you need my help. You’re hopeless.”

Seungcheol almost pouts, but gains control of his features in time to avoid it.

“Let’s get one thing straight,” He grinds out, jaw clenching so tight that he can feel the roots of his teeth shifting inside his gums, “I do not _need_ your help, and more importantly Janna—I do not _want_ your help. Mind your own business or you will find my patience and generosity towards financing your current lifestyle drying up pretty damn quick.”

Janna’s expression crumbles a little, and Seungcheol remembers that look.

It’s been years, but it’s still clear in his mind, that bright grin slipping and the feeling that it’s his fault.

Something tightens in his chest and he reaches out to console her, but before he knows what’s happening, he’s staring at an empty champagne glass and the front door to his apartment is slamming shut in his face.

* * *

Blowing the excess glitter dust off his card, Jihoon sits back and allows himself to feel the teeniest bit self-satisfied over his labour of love: a handmade Valentine card for Seungcheol.

Previous years’ experience of making his own cards had taught him to expect a few creative re-designs, but he’s happy to say that so far he’s only had to go back to the drawing board 23 times.

It’s perfect now. He wouldn’t change a thing.

Except to make it bigger, so he can add more _glitter_.

Everything is nicer with more glitter. 😊

Sure, it’s not as fancy as some of cards you can buy, and yeah, the hearts he cut out of red foil aren’t as neat as they could be, but Jihoon thinks it gives it a quaint charm that all handmade things possess. Besides, his mother always said that the best gift was when you made yourself, so he’s really poured his heart and soul into this one.

He’s tidying up, wiping down the kitchen table and scooping the errant pieces of pink confetti that he hasn’t managed to catch the last 5 times he’d vacuumed, when Seokmin comes strolling into the kitchen and freezes.

“Jihoon—don’t you think this is a little much?”

Placing a protective hand over his card, Jihoon frowns at him. “Please don’t say that. I know it’s a lot of glitter, but I’ve been working on this card all week.”

Seokmin just blinks, not comprehending, then looks pointedly at the counter, “I’m talking about the chocolate. I mean—I know the guy has a sweet tooth and all, but I don’t think your boss can eat _this_ much chocolate.”

“Oh,” Jihoon says, sparing a glance at the counter, “Those chocolates aren’t _just_ for Seungcheol, they’re for all my friends. I thought it would be nice to make little gift boxes for all the people who’ve been really nice and helpful to me at work. I’m planning to hand them out tomorrow—for Valentine’s day. Just, you know, to spread some cheer and VD love. Wait—no, that came out wrong.”

“Are you…making your own cards _too_?” Seokmin asks, coming closer to peek over Jihoon’s shoulder.

It’s clear he’s trying not to grin at Jihoon's display of dorkiness.

Jihoon can't escape a blush as he nods, saying, “Yeah, it’s uhm, for Seungcheol. I was just adding the finishing touches. Do you like it? Do you think he’ll like it? It’s too pink, isn’t it? Oh God, I knew I should have used less glitter. I always use too much glitter when I craft things, but none of the cards in the shops had the right amount of glitter and I thought, hey, I like making things, why don’t I just make him a really extra special card with just the right amount of glitter, and now I’ve gone and ruined everything!”

"Jihoon, Jihoon,” Seokmin cuts him off urgently, grabbing Jihoon by the shoulders and shaking him. “Calm down and listen to me.”

Jihoon obediently manages to stop the frantic flow of words from his lips. “Yeah?”

“There’s nothing wrong with your card, okay. It’s perfect. He’ll really love it.”

Jihoon feels a surge of warm pride in his chest. “Really? You think so?”

Seokmin nods encouragingly. “Absolutely. That man _adores_ you. You could give him a dead squirrel and he would pin it to his fridge and gush over it.”

* * *

First thing Monday morning, the floral excess starts arriving in perfumed waves.

Even from all the way in the conference room where he’s taking minutes, Jihoon can hear squeals of “oh my God, he remembered!” floating down from the offices, and he has to keep reminding himself he’s got a job to do. He can’t just leave Seungcheol’s side and rush out to see all the beautiful presents everyone’s getting.

But the second the manager’s meeting ends, he’s out of his seat and making a beeline for the foyer, arriving just in time to see an employee gushing over a big bouquet of beautiful flowers she’s been gifted.

“What the hell is that noise?” Seungcheol says, nudging Jihoon’s elbow as he joins him a moment later. He leans forward, bracing his forearms on the guardrail, and follows Jihoon's gaze down where a female employee is currently balling her eyes out, “And why the hell is she crying?”

Jihoon shrugs, amusement tugging at the corner of his mouth. “I guess she’s a little emotional because she just got flowers delivered for Valentine’s day.” he says, then bounces a little, thinking of how lovely it would be to get a present just as nice one day.

“Valentine’s day?” There's a huff of laughter from Seungcheol, “What a joke.”

Jihoon quickly turns to face him, frowning before he can help it. “A joke? What do you mean?”

Turning his head slowly, Seungcheol regards him with a raised eyebrow, “Oh, c’mon Peanut. You know it’s not a _real_ holiday right—it’s just a hallmark marketing tool; a manufactured excuse for couples to showcase their so called _love_ in the most clichéd way possible. Anyone who takes part in it is probably feeling lonelier and more pathetic than the people who have _nobody_ in their lives.” He laughs, straightening up.

He pats Jihoon on the shoulder on his way past, obviously meaning for Jihoon to follow. But Jihoon can only stare after him stupidly, feeling especially _lonely_ and _pathetic_ all of a sudden.

He should have known that Seungcheol wouldn’t like Valentine’s day. The man doesn’t like public gestures of affection, let alone _celebrations_ of it. He’ll probably take one look at Jihoon’s little card and burst out laughing. He'll probably toss it away as soon as Jihoon is out of sight.

Jihoon doesn't know what he was _thinking_.

A few steps ahead, Seungcheol stops and turns to look at him. His brown eyes flicker over Jihoon face, quick and curious, and then his brows come together.

“What?” He laughs, almost sounding surprised. But his levity seems to withdraw a bit more even as he says. “You don’t buy into this shit, do you?”

Jihoon feels something deep inside him crumple, but he does well not to let anything show in his expression as he finally moves forward, his feet coming unstuck. He steps past Seungcheol and makes his way quickly towards the elevator, though he can’t help but feel a creeping embarrassment when he finally enters their shared office and sees his card sitting there, waiting on Seungcheol’s desk.

Reaching for it quickly, he tucks it under a sheaf of documents before Seungcheol can walk in and catch sight of it, and scurries back to his desk to hide it.

Strangely, there is the smallest smouldering of confused disappointment on Seungcheol’s face when he enters the room. Jihoon has a pretty good handle on Seungcheol's faces (there aren't that many of them and most of them are the same.) But this one's definitely new. He remains silent as he makes his way around to the other side of his desk. Once he sits down, however, he speaks. 

“Peanut….have I upset you?”

Looking back over his shoulder, Jihoon forces himself to smile around the lump in his throat, “Of course not silly. I just remembered I have those papers Mr Yoon wanted for his meeting. I’ll just go take them to him now, shall I?”

Not waiting for an answer, Jihoon grabs the documents he needs to deliver and heads for the door, conscious of the restless eyes that are following his movements. He stops at the large confidential waste box at the entrance, the one that should be emptied today, and after a split second of indecision, slides his defective Valentines in.

It’s the nicest card he’s ever made, and he was so excited about giving it, but maybe he’s an idiot for wanting something more with Seungcheol when sometimes even their _friendship_ feels like a challenge.

* * *

After Jihoon leaves, Seungcheol gives it ten seconds before he’s grabbing the key from his desk, jumping out of his seat and striding over to the confidential waste basket. He’d briefly caught sight of the red and white envelope sitting on his desk before Jihoon swiped it away, then caught sight of it again seconds before Jihoon strode out the door, and he may be a lot of things—rude, obnoxious, stubborn—but he’s not an idiot. He _knows_ what that is, and there’s no way he’s letting it get relegated to the shredder.

It’s the first thing that falls out when he opens the confidential waste box, and he spends a moment shoving the rest of the discarded documents back in, before carrying the envelope back to the relative privacy of his desk.

Opening it, he withdraws a sweet little heart-shaped card covered in so much glitter he suspects he’s going to be coughing the stuff out for a week. There’s a picture on the front is of a Cactus and a Balloon hugging each other, and if that isn’t cute enough, the message written underneath, in impossibly more glitter, definitely takes the cake.

_‘I love everything about you, even the prickly bits’_

The novelty of those first five words brings an irrepressible smile to Seungcheol’s face, and suddenly, he finds it hard to swallow. It’s the sweetest thing he’s ever been given, really it is—except for the part where it makes him feel like an even bigger _asshole_.

 _‘Anyone who takes part in it is probably feeling lonelier and more pathetic than the people who have nobody in their lives’ —_ Oh god, way to go Seungcheol, way to go and open your big dumb mouth. Never mind that he meant it as a throwaway remark, a deflection from the real reason he can’t stand seeing everyone else so loved up, because Jihoon’s obviously taken it to heart and that’s the _worst._

Of course, Jihoon would love’s Valentine’s day—of course he would. It’s Jihoon for crying out loud—the sweetest little peanut in existence. He’s such a genuinely nice guy, he probably has cards made for everyone in the office, whereas Seungcheol can't remember the last time he bothered with Valentine's Day. Truthfully, he never seems to remember the holiday until it's past, even when he had someone to share it with. Which, come to think of it, isn't a quality that's endeared him to any of his former lovers actually.

Seungcheol stares at the card for a long time before deciding what to do.

* * *

“I can always depend on you to spoil me Jihoonie,” Seungkwan tells him, untying the ribbon, and lifting the lid. The whole room immediately smells like chocolate. “Oh, wow, these are so pretty. I can’t believe you went to all this trouble.” He adds, gushing over his chocolate gift box.

There's something impossibly satisfying in his display of awe, at the way he’s biting into a chocolate shell almost immediately, and Jihoon finds himself grinning despite his earlier disappointment with Seungcheol.

At least _someone_ appreciates his efforts.

“It’s nothing really, just a little something to say thank you for being such a great friend to me. I’m sure it’s nothing compared to what _Vernon’s_ got you. I bet you he’s planned something _real_ special today.”

Seungkwan waves a hand though, making a dismissive noise around what smells like a strawberry creme, “Oh I already know what he’s getting me, and it’s nothing spectacular. I gave him a list with everything I wanted, and he called me yesterday to ask if I wanted the 50ml size bottle or the 100ml, so I know I’m getting perfume.”

It takes Jihoon several long moments to process that. “You—” he blinks. “You actually gave him a _list_? Wouldn’t you prefer it if he surprised you?”

Seungkwan tosses his head back and laughs, “Oh hell no. I’m a practical person Jihoon, if I left Vernon to his own devices, he probably would have got me something dumb, like a cushion with our initials on it or a vial of his _blood_. It’s much more sensible to pick my gift in advance, that way I won’t be disappointed.”

Jihoon frowns, considers, ventures, “But—but it’s Valentine’s day. Don’t you think the surprise is a big part of the romantic aspect?”

Seungkwan lifts one side of his mouth in that really cute way that means he sees Jihoon's point but is unwilling to admit it. “Maybe, in an ideal world. But it’s the 21st century Jihoon—romance is dead.”

Jihoon privately thinks this is kind of sad, but it’s a sign of how well he knows Seungkwan that he refrains from saying this.

Also—what’s wrong with personalised cushions?

* * *

Sometimes, Seungcheol really hates Google.

He had asked one simple thing of it – _one_ – and this is the treatment he received?

About 26,400,000 hits?

He stares blankly at the screen and wonders what he has done to deserve this.

Oh yeah, that’s right. He’s an asshole.

Well. It can’t be that hard to find Jihoon the perfect gift. But then again, with only 7 hours left to the end of the work day, he better start sifting through all this shit.

Leading the list of search results for _last minute Valentine’s gifts_ , is unsurprisingly, www.lastminute.com www. _They’ll never know you forgot_ insists the jaunty splash banner at the top of the page. Further down, under the heading "Gifts to make them blush", there is a link to _another_ website.

The page is a very eyesore shade of pink.

As are they array of sex toys on offer.

Seungcheol frowns, but finds himself scrolling through the rest of the page anyway, then spends a moment contemplating the _sex swing_ he’s added to his shopping basket before common sense prevails.

_What the hell are you doing? You can’t give that to Jihoon._

Reluctantly he hits the 'Back' button and follows another link under the heading ‘Gifts to make them smile’ to a page filled with more _employee appropriate_ gifts. Flowers, candles, spa packages—all the terribly dull, cliched gifts you’d expect to receive that ultimately mean _nothing_.

It’s the same on the next page, and the next, and Seungcheol gradually feels his shoulders sag as he scrolls.

God, it’s hopeless. Just hopeless. Jihoon deserves nothing less than the best, a one of a kind gift nobody else has and none of this crap on offer can even come close. 

“Why the long face?”

Seungcheol looks up to see Mingyu stepping out of the restroom, _his_ private restroom, crumpling a wad of paper towel in his hands.

“Maybe because you keep breaking into my office.” he says as absently as he can, tearing his eyes away from the approaching man and fixing his gaze back on the computer screen.

“I didn’t break in. Jihoon gave me a key to the window so I could use the restroom whenever you step out.” Mingyu announces, so cheerfully that Seungcheol can _feel_ the kid's grin, even as he resolutely maintains eye contact with the pictures on screen.

“Just because I don’t actively try and kill you anymore doesn’t give you free reign of my office amenities. I can still have you fired.” Seungcheol mutters into his laptop.

Mingyu shrugs, so fucking cavalier, “You could—but you won’t. We’re friends now. Friends don’t get their friends fired.”

“We’re not friends.” Seungcheol snipes, a little ruffled, “I tolerate you— _barely_. That’s nobody’s definition of friendship.”

“But we watched basketball together.” Mingyu pouts, feigning disappointment.

Seungcheol glances up again, tilting his head. “I had two courtside seats and I like having someone to watch basketball with. You were the obvious choice. Don’t make it personal.”

Even to his own ears, he sounds like a four-star asshole, but Mingyu seems to just take it in his stride, and even manages a grin as he props himself on the edge of his desk. “C’mon dude. What’s got you so stressed?”

Seungcheol sighs, shoving his laptop aside in favour of glaring out across the office for a bit. His eyes trail the far wall and land on the clock by chance, and his eyebrows knit together as he realizes how much time he’s already wasted searching fruitlessly online. It’s almost midday, and he’s got tons of paperwork to sift through and there’s only so many fake errands he can send Jihoon on before he starts getting suspicious.

“Say money was no object,” He begins carefully, “What’s the best gift you would get for someone?”

If Mingyu’s surprised by the non sequitur, he doesn’t show it. “A car, I guess. Who doesn’t want a car?”

Seungcheol grunts, dissatisfied, “Say they can’t drive.”

Mingyu tilts his head thoughtfully. “Okay, what about an exotic vacation. Somewhere tropical.”

Seungcheol shakes his head, spinning a pen on the surface of the table. “Not bad, but it needs to be a little less spontaneous than that. And it needs to be something I can organise in the next 6 hours but feels like I’ve been planning it for _weeks_.”

Mingyu stares at him, then glances over at the calendar on his desk before his mouth forms a silent ‘ah’ of understanding, like it all makes sense now. “Don’t you think it’s a little late to be planning your Valentine’s day gift for Jihoon?”

Seungcheol takes a moment to marvel that Mingyu's mind was able to extract the story from the fragmentary thoughts Seungcheol had been spouting, before slumping back into his seat with a huff.

“Please don’t say that man, that’s the last thing I need to here right now. I have to get him something today, okay, I _have_ to. I’ve upset him and I need to make it up to him and it needs to be today.”

“Well, what about the classics? Flowers or chocolates or something.” Mingyu re-joins, with more spirit.

Seungcheol lolls his head to the side to frown at him, “I already got him flowers once, and chocolates are such a generic gift. I wanted to get him something unique, something special—something nobody else has, but he’ll really appreciate.”

“Well, nobody says you have to spend money!” Mingyu announces optimistically. “Some of the best, most romantic gifts are gestures of affection. Like writing a poem, or making a mixed tape, or, oh—oh. You could always _perform_ for him.”

Seungcheol shoots him a squinty eyed look. He is starting to reconsider the wisdom of this particular line of enquiry, but he presses on regardless. “ _Perform_ for him?”

“Here me out, okay.” Mingyu begins, sliding off the desk with an uneasy grin. “I have an idea and it’s going to sound a little crazy, but I guarantee it will sweep him off his feet.”

Seungcheol motions for him to continue, trying for a blasé expression even though he’s got pen and paper at the ready, totally prepared to take notes.

“Okay, so first, we make some paper arrows and red hearts out of these pencils and paper. Second, we make up a reason for everyone to be in the canteen at precisely 2pm. Everyone, including Jihoon. Thirdly, you strip down to your boxers and I rub baby oil all over you, and then, you climb onto my scaffold, drop down to canteen and burst through the window. You announce that you’re here to claim your valentine and you throw the arrows at Jihoon. When he catches one, you pick him up off his feet and carry him back into the scaffold, and you both ascend into the heavens. Like angels.”

Seungcheol stares, unable to formulate a logical response.

There are no words anyway. None at all.

All the words are gone and possibly will never return again. So he lets his expression—which is hopefully communicating _'you’re a fucking idiot, please never speak to me again'_ – do the talking.

“What? You don’t like it? I thought it was a cute idea.” Mingyu answers in his best forlorn puppy voice.

Seungcheol gives this assessment all the support it deserves by immediately turning his attention back to his laptop. Opening a new browser, he settles his hand over the keyboard, types out AARGGGHHHH, before something occurs to him, and he eyes Mingyu speculatively.

“Wait a minute—why the hell would you be rubbing baby oil all over me for?”

Mingyu shrugs awkwardly, shuffling his left foot on the marble. “I may have recently joined the Choi Seungcheol appreciation club that meet on the 12th floor. Some of the fanfiction the write about you is pretty explicit and I guess it left me a little _curious_.” He says, his voice heavy with meaning.

Seungcheol kind of wishes he hadn’t asked, because he doesn’t know whether he should be amused or a little bit horrified. He rolls his chair a safe distance away and points a stern finger at Mingyu. “No more courtside seats for you.”

“Aww.”

* * *

“Oh my god, Jihoonie, this is the sweetest Valentine’s day gift I’ve ever gotten.” Choon-Hee says, when Jihoon presents her with a gift box.

Her face is bright with delight, and Jihoon's cheeks go warm, not so much embarrassed as pleased.

“I’m sure that’s not true. What about these beautiful flowers?” He asks, dancing his fingers over the petals of some lovely roses displayed on the desk. There’s a card too, with a cute little Haiku inside, in handwriting that looks oddly familiar. “They must be from someone special.”

Choon-Hee grins, white teeth flashing, “Not really—I bought them for myself.”

Jihoon gapes. “But—there’s a card attached. It says _To My Valentine._ There’s a poem inside.”

“Look Jihoon, I’m going to level with you,” Choon-Hee says, lowering her voice, as if she's giving away a state secret. “I wrote that for myself too.”

Jihoon gapes some more until Choon-Hee playfully smacks his arm. “I know, I know, that’s kind lame, but I have to keep up with the other girls in the office. Every year their desks are covered with flowers and chocolates and I can’t stand the pitying looks they throw my way when I get nothing. So I’ve been sending myself presents every Valentine’s day. Keeping up appearances and all that.”

Jihoon tilts his head quizzically. “But—I thought you were married. Doesn’t your husband get you anything?”

Choon-Hee just slings an arm around Jihoon’s and laughs and laughs and laughs.

She’s still laughing five minutes later, when Jihoon slowly backs out of the office.

* * *

When Seungcheol steps out of the elevator, for once, no one even glances his way. The corridor is humming with activity and chatter, but not the usual work-related buzz you’d expect on a Monday. Instead, it’s a total shitshow of hurt feelings and melodrama.

Every corner he turns is rife with petty disagreements and enormous emotional blow-ups, recriminations and people weeping quietly in bathrooms. When he pokes his head into one office, half the people inside seem to be too busy admiring some woman’s engagement ring, while the other half are glaring daggers in said woman’s direction. Then in another, there’s a circle of women gathered together, showing off their same bouquet of long stem, red roses. It’s all very collegial, until a fight breaks out over who’s bouquet is _bigger_.

And all because it’s fucking _Valentine’s day._

This engrossment in the artificial holiday isn’t exactly conducive to an efficient working environment, but it’s probably for the best, Seungcheol thinks, as he winds his way through the cubicles to his destination. The last thing he needs or wants is an audience to his own romantic crisis.

“Kind of busy right now Seungcheol.” Jeonghan immediately says the second Seungcheol barges into his office. He doesn’t look busy though—with his feet up on his desk, flipping through a magazine, a half-eaten box of chocolates at his elbow, and Seungcheol is compelled to point that out.

“You don’t _look_ very busy.”

Jeonghan turns a page slowly, all casual grace and unflappable composure. “Well I am. I’m expecting a call from some very important VIP people.”

Seungcheol doesn’t roll his eyes—It seems undignified at this stage of his life-- but it’s a near thing. “Really? You’re expecting a call from some very important very important people people?”

Jeonghan keeps his head down, eyes fixed on his magazine like he expects it to try to escape or something. “Yep. And when I finish with that, I need to schedule a meeting with our Paris office as soon as possible. ASAP.”

Seungcheol narrows his eyes at the extraneous use of acronyms, but manages to reign in his temper long enough to say, “Well, how long do you expect to be?”

“That depends on what you want to talk about; if it’s about work, it’ll have to wait, but if it’s not, I find myself suddenly free.”

Seungcheol exhales with irritation. “It’s about Jihoon.”

Allowing himself a half-smile at this, Jeonghan raises his eyes to meet Seungcheol's gaze, “Of course it is—why else would you venture down here looking like your world’s about to end. What happened this time? Are you afraid that you booped him on the nose too hard? Or did he just to something so exceedingly adorable you had to flee the office before you peppered his face with a thousand tiny kisses?”

Seungcheol feels the slow heat of blood creeping into his face, because both of those things are genuine possibilities on any given day. He is gripped by the sudden urge to do something childish, like push Jeonghan out of his chair. He reins the urge in by gripping the edge on Jeonghan’s desk with both hands.

“This is serious Hannie. I need to find him a Valentine’s day gift,” he says slowly, “A good one.”

Jeonghan shifts back in his chair, more obviously smiling now, “How charming. I never took you for the romantic type Seungcheol.”

 _I’m in love with him—_ Seungcheol almost says. He bites it back at the last second.

“I’m not _usually_ ,” He forces himself to shrug nonchalantly. “But I may have upset him by saying it was a dumb holiday for pathetic people, then I found this really cute hand-made card in the trash that he was planning on giving me, and now I feel like a giant asshole about the whole thing. More of an asshole than _usual_ at least. I feel the need to make it up to him.”

Jeonghan's eyes light with amusement before Seungcheol has even finished speaking. “You know what—I _might_ just be able to help you out there.” he says, his grin cat-like and mischievous as he spins in his chair and begins rooting around behind his desk. A moment later he produces a gift bag, and out of it comes a sleek looking black and red gift box.

“I bought this online a few weeks ago, and I was planning on giving it to someone—but, well, I think you’re more desperate than I am, and it’s such an original idea, I think Jihoon will really love it.”

As a rule, Seungcheol doesn’t like the idea of re-gifting something bought for someone else, and he definitely doesn’t appreciate being labelled as _desperate_ , even if he most certainly is. Nevertheless, he reaches for the box anyway, slipping it carefully out of its sleeve. Prying the lid open, he takes one look inside and raises his eyebrows.

Both of them.

“Are you fucking serious?”

Jeonghan shrugs one shoulder. “You already bought him a thong. This is just the next logical step.”

Seungcheol frowns, digging through the contents of the kit. “How is a candy G-string, a blindfold and a pair of handcuffs the next logical step?”

“It’s a kink kit. It signifies _commitment_.” Jeonghan says, deliberately whimsical.

Seungcheol’s eyes bug out. “No, it doesn’t. It signifies _perversion_. I can’t have my innocent Jihoonie thinking I’m a pervert.”

Jeonghan leans back in his chair and shakes his head, as though saddened by Seungcheol's modesty. “Well it’s a little too late for that Seungcheol, you bought him a thong, remember? He knows you’re a pervert, and guess what—he likes you anyway. I’m almost certain he’ll love whatever you give him.”

Seungcheol falls silent as he considers the inevitable truth in these words. Jihoon is a very happy, loving peanut, after all. He has, on several occasions, become quite teary eyed over the smiley face Seungcheol leaves on his memos. It stands to reason that he would appreciate any gift with just as much feeling.

Seungcheol tries to picture his reaction to _this_ gift—surprise, amusement, fainting? Then he lets his mind wonder a little further, tries to imagine Jihoon actually _using_ the gift, because the image of Jihoon blindfolded and tied to a bed is just too tempting to resist. Not too tightly of course, because his little peanut probably bruises like a peach and Seungcheol doesn’t want him to be uncomfortable. And he’d probably do away with the blindfold too, because Jihoon doesn’t like the dark. And now that he’s thinking about it, a candy G-string is impractical—there’s no way Seungcheol could eat that much hard candy in one go, and from that angle, his neck would probably ache and Jihoon would get bored waiting. So they’d just, you know, end up cuddling instead probably. Under a nice warm blanket, sipping hot chocolate in matching rubber duckie pyjamas.

Aww.

“You’re picturing it, aren’t you?” Jeonghan shakes him out of his thoughts with a waggle his eyebrows.

Seungcheol immediately feels like a giant prude, squirming under Jeonghan's fascinated and entertained smile.

“Not in the way you think.” He grunts, shoving everything back into the box, before sliding it back across the desk at Jeonghan. “Thanks for the offer, but it’s not quite what I’m looking for. Though I am curious who you were _originally_ planning on gifting it to.”

Jeonghan waves a hand, as if it's no big deal, and Seungcheol supposes it likely isn't. Though the tremendous amount of effort Jeonghan’s making to keep his gaze averted tells a different story altogether.

* * *

“Woah, thanks Jihoon. I didn’t expect to get anything from you. I, uhm, don’t know what to say.” Junhui murmurs when Jihoon hands him his gift.

He seems genuinely shocked to have gotten anything on Valentine’s day—even though his desk is practically covered with gifts. There are all sorts: roses and carnations and lilies and dozens upon dozens of wildflowers. And, of course, there’s chocolates. Heaps and heaps of shiny little red and gold boxes of sweets. Jihoon is surprised the desk hasn’t collapsed under all the weight.

Jihoon carefully bites down on his tongue, keeping himself from showing any surprise at the expansive display. When he thinks he can manage it, he speaks, “Wow Junhui. _Someone_ has a lot of admirers.”

“What else do you expect from the office _bike_.” Soonyoung drawls, jerking his head at Junhui pointedly.

“Don’t listen to him.” Junhui glares at him hotly. “He’s just jealous that I’m winning.”

“ _Winning_?” Jihoon repeats blandly.

Junhui grins at him, reckless. “Yeah, every year we place a bet on who’ll get the most Valentine’s gifts, and I always win. I doubt this year will be any different. I’m already in the lead by 160 points and the day’s still early.”

Jihoon divides a disbelieving glance between them, but the both to seem sincere. “You guys seriously compete over Valentine’s day gifts? You have a _points_ system?”

Junhui nods abruptly, “Yep. The bigger and more expensive the gift the more points you get. Cards count for 5 points. Small gifts for 10, medium for 20, and large for 30. Truly massive gestures of affection that are out of the ordinary are valued at 500 points. One year I got a masseuse sent straight to my office and I won by a landslide. That was a good year.”

Jihoon shakes his head balefully. “But that’s not what Valentine’s day should be about you guys. It should be a celebration of love and friendship and admiration—not an excuse to _compete_ with each other.”

Junhui and Soonyoung spend a good fifteen seconds laughing, before they notice that Jihoon isn't in on the joke.

“Oh. Wait. You’re serious.”

“Of course, I’m serious.” Jihoon pouts, eyebrows knitting together as he crosses his arms over his chest. “Have you even stopped to think about all those people who’ve sent you gifts? You obviously mean something special to them, and you’ve turned their gesture into a game. That’s not very nice of you.”

Soonyoung and Junhui exchange a puzzled look, then turn in unison towards Jihoon.

“It’s not that we don’t appreciate the gifts Jihoon—cause we do, really. It’s just we get so many and usually from people we don’t know, that we decided to use it as a measure of who’s more likeable in the office.”

“Or who gets _around_ more.” Soonyoung adds with a leer.

“You could join us if you like?” Junhui suggests, “If you win, you get to gloat for the rest of the year.”

“No, thank you. Valentine’s day is not a competition for me,” Jihoon says with emotion, crossing his arms over his chest, then proceeds to pout and fidget awkwardly as he adds, “Also, I haven’t received anything yet.”

The embarrassment in his admission has him blushing now too—he can feel it spreading from the tips of his ears down, especially when Junhui and Soonyoung treat him to a humiliating chorus of _awws_.

“Hey, don’t be sad.” Junhui coos, patting him patronizingly atop the head, “Here, you can have one of my gifts. Pick anyone you like—except for the box of Cubans. Those are mine.”

Jihoon pulls the face that offer deserves and walks out of the room.

* * *

For reasons that don't bear discussion, Seungcheol gives in to his desperation and calls the one person he swore never to ask for advice, a little disturbed at exactly how low he is ready to go in pursuit of this goal.

No surprises for guessing that he immediately regrets it the second Seungmin suggests:

“Nothing’s more romantic than a dick pic.”

“You know Seungmin, I used to think you were some kind of smooth Casanova,” says Seungcheol. “As recently as this morning.”

The corners of Seungmin’s eyes crinkle, like he’s about to laugh, before smoothing out. “Just listen to me Cheol. You might be the smarter one, but you have to admit I’ve got a lot more experience with seducing people, and I’m telling you a dick pic has never failed me.”

Seungcheol shakes his head disbelievingly, embarrassed to be sharing the same gene pool as this lunatic. Yeah, sure, Seungmin may have dated a lot of people, has an endless queue of models and aspiring actresses hanging off his arm, but his idea of a romantic gesture is essentially, as subtle as a brick to the face.

“ _Really_? You actually manage to woo people with dick pics?” Seungcheol asks, not sure he wants an answer.

Seungmin’s smile spreads slightly, as though he is proud of his lunacy. “Trust me, it works. And from what I recall, you’ve been very blessed in that area, you should share it with the world.”

“I am not sending my PA a dick pic.” Seungcheol snaps, before he can stop himself.

On screen, Seungmin's face performs a strange contortion, before he falls quiet. Deadly quiet. He appears to be contemplating this revelation.

“So dad was telling the truth huh? You’re fucking your PA.” He tuts disapprovingly, though it’s belied by the massive shit eating grin he’s wearing, “That’s not very professional Cheollie.”

“What do _you_ know about professionalism.” Seungcheol blurts desperately, hoping to steer the conversation in a more manageable direction.

“I know enough not to fuck my _employees_.” Seungmin purrs, still grinning, “If our childhood taught me anything, it was not to mess around with anyone you write a cheque for. Or are you forgetting the false paternity suit dad got slapped after mom fired our nanny?”

Seungcheol lets out a heavy, persecuted sigh, rubbing a hand over his face. “I’m not fucking him, okay. We haven’t done anything like that. I’m just—”

“Just pulling your hair out over what Valentine’s day gift the buy him?” Seungmin laughs outright, “That sounds even worse. Sounds like you’re actually _falling_ for him.”

“Too late for that.” Seungcheol snorts. At which point, he contemplates the pros and cons of using a pencil to puncture his jugular. Maybe then he’ll learn to shut his fucking mouth.

The silence that settles between them then stretches out for what feels like an age. Which is always a bad sign in Seungcheol’s experience. It means intense teasing is on the way – the longer the silence, the worse the fall-out later. Seungcheol starts to wonder if it would be too much to ask for his laptop to explode, taking him with it, before Seungmin’s wide eyed face looms closer in the screen. 

“So, uhm, this isn’t just a sex thing? You _actually_ really like him?” Seungmin asks, patiently and with way too much amusement.

Seungcheol feels the same Pavlovian defensiveness and urge to deny that always crops up when someone starts asking questions about his love life, but the truth is, he’d almost like to tell someone about Jihoon. Someone other than Janna and a handful of employees that just happened to stumble across the knowledge without meaning to.

Seungmin already knows more about him than just about anyone else, and he trusts him to keep quiet, but still…

Seungcheol takes a deep breath, figuring he can't very well stop now.

“ _Like_ might be a bit of an understatement.” He swallows, glancing away. “Pretty sure I’m in love.”

Even though he’s not looking, Seungcheol pretty sure he can hear Seungmin's disbelieving gape. He waits for him to burst out laughing, to snort or at least scoff at such an assertion. But when no laughter seems forthcoming, Seungcheol looks back to see Seungmin's gaze still riveted on him, searching him in a way he isn't used to being searched anymore. 

Seungcheol briefly contemplates making the laptop explode himself. Then he bites his lip and spits out. “Would you say something please? I can’t stand you just staring at me like I’m stupid.”

Seungmin’s already shaking his head, “I don’t think you’re stupid Cheol, I just—I guess I’m just…. shocked. I never thought I’d hear you say that about anyone again. I don’t even think I heard you say that about your _wife_.”

“Yeah, I know.” Seungcheol says, although he didn’t, exactly, until now. “But Jihoon is—God Seungmin, he’s really special. He’s so sweet and cute and perfect, I can’t help how I feel about him. And I’ve tried, I’ve really tried not to feel this way. I’ve tried to put some distance between us. But just looking at him makes me so… _happy_."

Seungmin stares at him some more, as if trying to assess the truth of what Seungcheol is saying. He seems to see something that satisfies him, though – and his expression shifts again, this time to something hopeful, “Maybe you could introduce me to him one day? I’d like to meet him.”

Seungcheol's first instinct is to say _no way in hell_ , and it's clear from brother's face that's the response he's expecting. So he’s more surprised than anyone to finds himself saying, “Yeah, sure. Why not.”

* * *

Wonwoo smiles at him until he sees what Jihoon is holding out to him, then his expression drops away into something more business-like. 

“Jihoon—you are a very small and nice ca…. _person_. I enjoy your company as well as your collection of colourful sweater vests, but I have to be honest here—I am not interested in pursuing a romantic relationship with you.”

“Uhm, okay, but I’m not interested in getting with you either.” Jihoon clarifies, when he finally feels himself gradually thaw out of abject shock. “Not to sound rude or anything, because I think you’re a very handsome man, and you’re actually kind of funny, in your own way. Also you’re really great at Karaoke. But you’re uhm, not exactly my type. Sorry.”

Wonwoo stares at Jihoon’s face for a moment, before dropping his gaze to the little gift box in his hand. He finally takes hold of it, studying it with an expression that manages to somehow be both suspicious and long-suffering. “Then why are you giving me a Valentine’s gift?”

Jihoon blinks at Wonwoo uncomprehendingly, face burning, stomach unpleasantly tight, “Because you’re a nice person and I like you? Because you’re my friend? At least, I’d like to _think_ we’re friends.”

Wonwoo’s frown deepens somehow. He still looks like he expects a punchline any minute.

“I made one for _everybody_.” Jihoon murmurs, suddenly struggling to maintain eye contact.

“Oh, I see.” Wonwoo’s implacable frown suddenly fractures a little, one eyebrow shifting up and pulling the corner of his mouth with it. “I’m sorry, I assumed you were trying to seduce me with heart shaped confectionary.”

Jihoon fights an urge to squirm as his awkward discomfort has officially reaches critical levels. Honestly, with a reaction like _this_ , maybe next year he’ll just settle for giving everyone a nice, platonic handshake.

“No, I—I just really love Valentine’s day and I wanted to celebrate it with everyone. So I made a little something for everybody to enjoy.”

Wonwoo straightens up, pushing his glasses back up his nose. “Okay, good. Cause you’re not my type either. You remind me too much of my cat.”

Jihoon’s mouth falls open. What the _fuck_.

“Don’t get me wrong, I love Mr Fuzzy McWhiskers. But not in _that_ way.”

“ _Okay_ …..” Jihoon murmurs, edging for the door.

Obviously this isn't the most polite response to someone trying to show you pictures of their cat but, honestly, he can’t get out of there fast enough.

* * *

Seungcheol isn’t an idiot—a fact he thinks is already well established. But he is stubborn as hell though, and he has more than enough pride to choke on if given half a chance. Most of the stupid things he’s been accused of doing come down to the massive load of pride carried around on his shoulders like a fucking cross, and not immediately asking Janna for help probably counts as one of those things.

If he didn’t have so much goddamn pride, he would never have told her to mind her own business in the first place, because dammit—like it or not, Janna _is_ an expert at this sort of thing; she’d know exactly what sort of Valentine’s gift would butter up Jihoon and probably even where to buy it. And a week ago, she had been more than happy to lend her expertise before Seungcheol through it back in her face.

As he finally deigns to dial her number, he can only hope she’s willing to swallow her pride too.

The phone rings four times, which is strange because Janna always answers on the second ring – not too eager, nor too slothful, even Janna's phone answering habits are carefully planned. So Seungcheol figures she must be busy or even _angrier_ with him than he realised.

 _Both_ , he determines, when she finally answers.

“Make this quick asshole, I’m in the middle of a lunch date.”

Seungcheol laughs bitterly without meaning to, “What’s new? Your whole _life_ is a lunch date.”

“You colossal dick,” Janna huffs, “I’m hanging up on you.”

“No, wait—Janna, please don’t hang up!” Seungcheol blurts out, wincing at the sheepishness he can hear in his own voice.

When the dial tone doesn’t immediately buzz in his ear, he knows he has only a few seconds to make this worth her while. So takes a deep breath, aided by the moment of stunned silence that reigns, then says it.

“Please—I need your help with Jihoon.”

There’s a pause, another heartbeat of silence, and then:

“Excuse me? I must have heard that wrong, because I could have sworn you just said you needed my help with Jihoon, and I know that can’t be right, because if I recall correctly, that’s the very same thing you just threw in my face a week ago.”

Seungcheol heaves a defeated sigh, extra theatrical for Janna's benefit, “Yeah, I know. And I feel terrible about what I said, but I’m really desperate now Janna; I’ve been trying to find the perfect Valentine’s gift for him all day and I can’t come up with anything special enough. I really need your help. _Please_.”

Janna sighs long-sufferingly into the phone, but Seungcheol can hear she is smiling in spite of herself.

“Okay fine, but we have to make this quick. I have better things to do that manage my ex-husbands love life, you know.” She snaps, but it’s the playfully pissy voice, the one that means Janna is having too much fun pretending to be angry to admit she isn't actually that mad.

“I’m all ears. Hit me.” Seungcheol grins.

Janna must transfer him to loudspeaker, because he can hear her nails tapping against her phone, the background noises of glassware and plates dimly punctuating the silence.

“Are you friends with him on Instagram?”

Seungcheol blinks and struggles to get it together enough to respond. “Uh…what’s Instagram?”

Janna begins to mutter something under her breath, something unflattering about Seungcheol’s age before she cuts herself off with an annoyed _tch_.

“It’s just a picture sharing site, where people advertise their entire lives. It’s very insightful normally, expect that Jihoon’s got a private account, so I’ll need to send you a link with my account details and password to see his posts. Don’t go snooping through my private shit, okay, that’s none of your business. Just follow the link to his account and start scrolling through the posts. There’s a one about half a page down I want you to look at. The one where he looks extra super adorable.”

Seungcheol fumbles for his laptop, opens an Incognito browser in Chrome, and navigates to Jihoon’s Instant-gram profile or whatever. He begins scrolling, but he’s not entirely sure which picture Janna means because Jihoon looks extra super adorable in _all of them_. Though one picture in particular does stand out—an especially adorable close up of Jihoon hugging a massive Hello Kitty plushie, tagged at Sanrio store in the city. The caption reads, ‘Someone pls buy me this😊’

“Oh, yeah, I see it.”

“He looks so cute and happy, doesn’t he?” Janna coos, with the clink of a glass underpinning her words. “And yeah, someone might argue it’s too much too soon. But I’ve always thought, why go for a small gesture when you can go for a big one? _”_

Seungcheol nods, smiling to himself as it finally becomes clear what he has to do. “Good idea Janna, I’m going to buy him the huge Hello Kitty Plushie.”

“What? No—no,” Janna protests, laughter edging into her voice. “What picture are you looking at?”

“Uh. The one where he’s at the Sanrio store. Why? What picture did _you_ mean?”

“The one where he’s camping with his housemate?” She replies with exaggerated patience, “He looks so happy I thought it would be sweet if you planned a romantic glamping style getaway for both of you. I’m thinking something with one of those very stylish glass igloos, filled with warm fur blankets and scatter cushions where you can sip sparkly apple juice and eat chocolate coated strawberries under the stars.”

Frowning pensively, scrolling down for a second before he gets to a picture of Jihoon from about four months ago—a camping trip with Seokmin. He does look happy, sure, but it’s the standard Peanuty happiness that pervades him daily. Not the _‘I’m going to pass out’_ happiness of celebratory breakfasts and plushies and surprise trips to….

Oh. Wait……he just got an idea for the perfect card.

Seungcheol takes a moment to absorb his new idea before answering, “A romantic camping trip seems a little forward, don’t you think? Maybe I should play it safe for now and buy him the massive plushie.”

Janna’s frustrated exhale comes through the earpiece loud and clear. “Didn’t you already buy him a plushie?”

“Yeah, so what? He loves Berry Beret, he sleeps with him every night.” Seungcheol returns, a little defensively. “Besides, have you seen this _size_ of this thing? It’s _huge_ —he’ll love it even more. In fact, I’m sure if I contact their sales team directly, they might even have something even _bigger_ available. With the kind of money I’m ready to shell out, I’m sure they would be willing to part with some merch they wouldn’t normally have for sale. I could buy him the biggest plushie ever made.”

Janna huffs out a laugh, although it tapers off into yet another sigh by the end. “Why bother asking for my help if you’re just going to do whatever you want anyway?”

“That’s a good point Janna. Guess I didn’t need your help after all.”

Janna emits a rather indignant squawk, but Seungcheol hangs up on her before she can start yelling.

* * *

Chan-sung takes one look at his gift, then gives Jihoon a look that borders on condescending. “Do you know that the sales of gold Jewelry on Valentine’s day generate 34 million tons of mine waste?”

“Uhm, no, I didn’t. That’s really interesting,” Jihoon smiles, trying to sound interested.

“And did you know that red roses emit over 9,000 tons of carbon dioxide on this very day?” Chan-sung informs him with a look of scholarly seriousness. “Most of these roses can’t be sourced locally, so are shipped from around the world, which means thousands of tons of fossil fuels are burned just to keep up with demand. It’s crazy when you actually sit back and thing about, how irresponsible people can be in a single day. I mean, what’s so romantic about ravaging the Earth’s natural resources?”

“I guess it’s a good thing I didn’t get you any jewelry or roses then, huh?” Jihoon manages, finally, when Chan-sung’s eruption of environmental awareness seems to be ebbing.

But of course, he spoke to soon.

Chan-sung sighs, sounding almost _disappointed_. “Cards and chocolates are pretty damaging on the environment too Jihoon; they drive deforestation around the globe. Especially on Valentine’s day, where approximately 480 million cards are sent worldwide. That’s like—a whole forest of trees!”

“I—I didn’t know that. I’m sorry.” Jihoon murmurs, his stomach dropping into his shoes.

He hunches his shoulders unhappily as he steps away from Chan-sung’s cubicle, trying not to think about all the little animals he’s unknowingly removed from their homes with his actions. Maybe he could plant some tree’s in the park this weekend, or volunteer at a nature reserve. To apologise to mother nature for his thoughtlessness.

It’s the least he could do. ☹

* * *

Everyone is staring at him.

Seungcheol is used to it at this point. He’s the boss, after all; it comes with the territory. People know him, or at least know of him, and it’s not often that he ventures down to the supply room to request something in person, so of course people are going to do a double take when he arrives unannounced and just stands there, breathing down their necks.

After a moment of silence, he notices everyone has slowly been edging their way towards the fire exit, like they all plan on making a run for it if given half the chance, so he takes a deep breath and points a finger at the employee cowering nearest to him.

“You. I need supplies.”

The man whimpers, shrinking in on himself, though he does stop trying to escape and turns to face Seungcheol.

"You have my entire department at your disposal, sir. How can we help?"

There’s no ‘we’ about it though, seeing as everyone else has taken Seungcheol’s brief distraction as an invitation to flee the room. So now the only people left are Seungcheol and this terrified looking man, who approaches slowly with all the enthusiasm of an inmate on death row.

Seungcheol’s never seen anyone look less at ease in his life and appreciates that the guy is probably five seconds away from wetting himself, so wastes no time in producing the list of supplies he needs out of his pocket.

“Can you get me everything on this list?”

The man examines the list for a moment, eyes flying over the page like he’s just been given a live bomb with only seconds to diffuse it. “I—I think so.”

Seungcheol looks at him shrewdly

“You _think_ so?”

“Uh—I mean, yes. Of course, Sir. Right away sir.” The man croaks, then begins to scurry around the room, gathering the scissors, an X-acto-knife, a ruler, heavy red paper, a few coloured Sharpie’s and an envelope from the supplies stacked on the shelves. He fetches them for Seungcheol in record time, laying each item on the desk with the same care and attention one would use when they’re presenting some sort of archaeological _wonder_.

“Okay, perfect.” Seungcheol nods approvingly, then jerks his head towards the door, “Now get out.”

The man’s expression crumples and his shoulders droop, like he think’s Seungcheol’s just fired him or something.

Which, on second thought, that’s probably what it sounded like.

“I’m not firing you by the way,” Seungcheol blurts out, stopping the man in his tracks. “I just need this room to make something that I can’t make in my office.”

“Oh,” The man’s face is full of surprise when he looks back, “Do you need any help?”

Seungcheol stares at the supplies on the desk and actually considers the offer. Sending a gift is one thing, and on rare occasions he's been known to put pen to paper and write out a short message when something more personal was required, but he's never, _ever_ , made a Valentine card in his life. His entire life. Not even in school, when all the other children were making cards for fun.

He could really use all the help he can get in this department, but ultimately accepts that to make this card truly special, he should handle it himself.

“Thanks for the offer, but I’m going to have to work on this one privately.”

* * *

Valentine’s day _is_ in fact, a joke.

It’s horrible to admit it, but Jihoon has to concede that Seungcheol was right, especially after an entire day of endless disappointment. Whatever fanciful notions he had about the Big Pink Holiday have slowly been beaten out of him after one too many hopeless interactions with people in the office, where half of them refuse to acknowledge what day it is, while the other half have twisted its sweet intentions into something tragic and greedy. Even the sole silver lining of this cloudy day—a cute Valentine’s card from a guy on the 5th floor—had been short lived, after he opened it to find it addressed to _Jiwoon._

Jiwoon who, when Jihoon has resealed it and delivered to it’s rightful owner, has barely glanced at it before tossing it away. Like it meant nothing. ☹

All told, it’s been kind of a depressing day and Jihoon is glad to find himself delivering his last gift box. Not that he expects a stellar reception from Hong Jisoo.

He’d debated about it for a while actually, long before everyone else’s reactions had disappointed him, mainly because Jisoo has never been his biggest fan and seems perpetually incapable of taking him seriously. But then, if Jihoon held a grudge against everyone who refused to take him seriously, he'd spend most of his time angry at almost every person he knows. Besides, it would be mean to leave Jisoo out just because he doesn’t _smile_ at Jihoon in board meetings.

So Jihoon knocks on the door of Jisoo’s office politely and enters when he’s ushered in, and then almost immediately wishes he hadn't bothered. 

“Really? For me?” Jisoo says, giving him a strange look that might be considered friendly—or at least non-threatening, if Jihoon squints and gives Jisoo the benefit of the doubt.

“Yeah, uhm, happy Valentine’s day.” Jihoon smiles, holding out the little gift box awkwardly. Jisoo just as awkwardly takes it, then holds it out from his body as if unsure what to do with it, like Jihoon’s just gifted him a box of _anthrax_ and not pretty heart shaped truffles. For some reason, it makes Jihoon feel especially sad.

“If you don’t like it, you don’t have to accept it,” He finally murmurs, unable to manage another second of silence. 

“No, no, it’s not that,” Jisoo blurts out, clutching the gift box to his chest before Jihoon can reach for it. He looks at Jihoon oddly for a moment, that same _‘what’s your deal?’_ look he’s been giving him since his very first day at work, before continuing, “It’s just a little unexpected is all. I didn’t even think you liked me very much.”

“What?” Jihoon flounders, mouth gaping, “Why would you say that?”

Jisoo shrugs philosophically. “I’m the HR manager. Nobody really likes HR managers. We’re like the police officers of the business world—everyone’s glad we exist, but at the same time, they want to have absolutely nothing to do with us.”

There’s an undertone of bitterness in Jisoo’s voice that speaks of personal experience and Jihoon can’t help but feel sorry for him. He does his best to sound sincere as he says, “Well, I like you Mr Hong. You work hard, and you’re polite, and I think you’re a really nice person.”

Jisoo raises an eyebrow sharply, “Really? Even after I tried to get you fired?”

Abruptly, Jihoon feels all the colour drop out of his cheeks.

“You—you tried to get me _fired_?” He says, more loudly than he'd intended.

Jisoo shoots him one of those quick, placating smiles he seems to consider adequate cover for his true emotions. It’s not especially comforting at this moment.

“It wasn’t anything personal, okay, I just felt like you were woefully underqualified for the job and that Mr Choi was irrational to hire you just because he thought you were _adorable_. _But_ since then—I’ve begun to accept that you’re actually quite good at what you do, and while I still think Seungcheol gives you far too much credit, we’re seeing positive results and that’s all the shareholders care about.” He says, patting Jihoon’s hand in an alarming parody of reassurance.

Jihoon opens and closes his mouth several times as he tries to absorb this knowledge.

"I—" he tries, then stops. "You mean—" and stops again. "I don’t—" but that sentence goes unfinished as well. Eventually he finally manages to regain some semblance of coherence, though his voice veers a pitch closer to hysterical as he says, “Seungcheol only hired me because he thought I was adorable?”

Jisoo’s face shifts slowly from hardened indifference to active surprise, and it’s suddenly obvious that he hadn’t meant to share that little bit of information out loud.

“I think I should probably stop talking now.” He murmurs, then all in a hurry his swivel chair is suddenly half-way across the office and he’s turning over files and papers and plans on his desk, trying to look busy.

Belatedly, Jihoon realizes he's been dismissed and slowly backs out of the room, a little numb with emotion.

When he gets back to Seungcheol’s office, he finds the man in question sitting behind his desk, folding and unfolding a piece of paper in his hands and looking so pleased with himself for some ridiculous reason. Jihoon feels a rush of irritation towards him, a rush that doubles when Seungcheol lifts his head, meets his gaze, then quickly scrambles to hide the paper out of sight.

“Uh, hey Peanut. How’s your day going?”

Jihoon’s doesn’t know how to answer this, except to blurt, “Did you really only hire me because you thought I was adorable?”

Seungcheol’s eyebrows shoot up, then he goes red—the reddest red Jihoon has ever seen him outside of the boardroom. Then, just as quickly, his expression closes down. He clears his throat awkwardly, hesitant as he reaches over to pull his laptop shut. He pauses, shifts like he isn't sure how to continue, and pushes to his feet with an uncommon lack of grace. His hands hover in the air between them like he wants to sketch out the answer, but after what feels like a short eternity of him working his jaw and not actually saying anything, he shoves his hands into his pockets and says, "I thought you _knew_."

Jihoon gapes, but apparently has finally met his daily quota for blushing, because his cheeks don't warm up immediately.

“Of course I didn’t know! I thought I had impressed you in my interview.”

Seungcheol’s face does an interesting contortion as he wrestles between truth and consolation. “You did, in a way. But you also showed up to the wrong interview and had no prior experience. On paper, there really was no justification for taking you on.”

“Then why hire me at all?” Jihoon laughs from the shock, “You could have just told me I wasn’t right for the position. I even asked for feedback and you said I was perfect. Why lie about it?”

Seungcheol licks his lips anxiously and lets his eyes drop shyly, betraying nervousness that Jihoon had never expected to see. “You were wearing a sweater vest.”

“So?” Jihoon returns, mystified. “Lots of people wear sweater vests.”

“Not like you wear them. Not so adorably.” Seungcheol says, smiling ruefully. “You were so cheery and positive, I couldn’t bring myself to give you bad news.”

Some of the surprise in Jihoon’s expression must register as offense, because Seungcheol’s closing the distance between them, planting his hands on Jihoon's shoulders and squeezing them gently in reassurance. “But none of that matters now Peanut. You have to realise that. You’re such a hard little worker, and you’ve proven yourself irreplaceable in so many ways. You’ve made such a difference here, I—”

 _“Have I?”_ Jihoon interrupts seriously, his heart thumping uneven in his chest. “Or have you just been giving me undue credit?”

There’s a carefully measured look directed back at him. “When have I ever done that?”

“What about in Paris? The Notre Dame deal?” Jihoon asks, half-angrily, half-frantically. “You told the board I helped secure it, but I don’t think I actually _did_ anything.”

Seungcheol’s face becomes frighteningly serious, “Yes, you did. You secured that deal for us. It was all _you_.”

Jihoon shakes his head slightly, “How? All I did was talk to the architects.”

“And that’s all it took.” Seungcheol says, hands sliding up to cup Jihoon’s face. His eyes are points of intensity, pinning Jihoon in place, making his mind race and crawl at the same moment. “You were exactly what I wasn’t. Personable, approachable, sweet—you smoothed things over when I just got their backs up. Yeah, you’re probably the most adorable person I’ve ever met, but that’s not a bad thing Jihoonie. It works for you. It’s a talent not a lot of people possess in this industry. You’re the best thing that’s happened to this company. To me.”

Jihoon is suddenly unable to talk. He swallows several times, but no voice comes to his rescue.

Nobody's ever said anything like that to him, not even come close, and he doesn't know what to say to something like this. He doesn't know what to do with the immodest flush of pleasure that curls up his spine at that, about the heaving fear, the way that Seungcheol's hand is rough and warm and perfect on his face.

“You—you’re not just saying that, are you? To make me feel better about being adorable?”

Seungcheol closes his eyes, like he needs a moment to centre himself. Is he _laughing_?

“No, Jihoon, I’m not,” He says in a half whisper, then he swoops in and presses a kiss into the centre of Jihoon’s forehead.

It’s a quiet kiss, tender and tentative and so incredibly sweet. Jihoon’s breath stops while Seungcheol keeps his mouth against his skin, only resuming when Seungcheol draws back again to cup his cheek and look him in the eye.

“I’d be lost without you Peanut—if you believe nothing else, please believe that.”

Jihoon nods dumbly, though he has only the vaguest idea of what Seungcheol is saying.

Truth is, his heart is hammering so loudly in his chest that, to him, it drowns out all other sounds in the room. Even the sound of the phone that suddenly springs to life on Seungcheol’s desk a moment later.

Seungcheol goes to answer it, turning a grouchy and irritable as he murmurs in hushed tones to whoever’s on the other end of the line. Jihoon just has a moment to glance at the receiver, recognise the extension and wonder what Security could possibly want from Seungcheol right now, before Seungcheol’s setting the phone down again and fetching his jacket.

“Listen Peanut, I uh—I need to step out for a second, I won’t be long, but I need you to stay here until I get back, yeah?”

Jihoon clears his throat and pulls a calmness he's not quite feeling both onto his face and into his voice. “Yes, of course.”

Seungcheol grins broadly, ticking Jihoon under the chin as he passes by, “Good kitten.”

Jihoon tries very, very hard not to blush. He doesn’t quite succeed. Instead, he waits until Seungcheol leaves, before rushing over to the confidential waste box in the corner with an abrupt change of heart. He’s prepared to poke around in there until he can fish out his card, the squirming embarrassment of gifting it will be worth it, he thinks, only for his heart to sink again when he pries the box open.

It’s already been emptied. His card for Seungcheol is long gone. ☹

* * *

“I’m sorry Mr Choi,” The security guard smiles awkwardly, “But when they said _you_ ordered this, I just felt I should confirm it with you before they started unloading it.”

“That’s okay, I’ll take it from here,” Seungcheol smiles back.

He can totally understand the man’s hesitation—he hesitates himself as he peers up the loading ramp.

This had seemed like a decent idea earlier, when talking to Janna and Janna had said, _why go for a small gesture when you can go for a big one?_ And because Jihoon is a total romantic, loves puppies, and flowers, and all things Hallmark, it had seemed like a cute, if uncharacteristic, gesture then, especially when he was flat out of ideas and quickly running out of time. But right now, as Seungcheol watches three delivery guys struggle to unload his purchase, all he can think is, _how the fuck is Jihoon going to take this home with him?_

“It’s a little bigger than I thought it would be.” He can’t help but mention to Ae-cha, the Sanrio Representative tasked with accompanying the unusual delivery.

The expression on her face remains posed and polite, but distant, clearly reiterating the ‘No Returns Policy’ he agreed to over the phone.

“You _did_ ask for the largest model we had Mr Choi. You were quite adamant about that in fact.”

“Yeah, I know. I just didn’t expect it to be _this_ huge.” Seungcheol murmurs, wincing as the plushie tilts dangerous to one side, threatening to squish one of the delivery men under its arm.

Thankfully, he lives to tell the tale, but the entire process of getting the gift off the ramp and to the building is a logistical _nightmare_.

Not only is the plushie huge, but it’s also heavy as fuck; about as awkward as moving a fully assembled bed Seungcheol guesses—if that bed also happened to be a giant fucking _marshmallow_. And any hope Seungcheol had of keeping this purchase a secret goes by the wayside once they finally reach the entrance, because he suddenly realises there’s absolutely no way this thing’s going to fit in the elevator. Not even the main one.

So it’s going to have to stay in the lobby, until Jihoon takes it home.

Which again— _how_?

Thankfully, it seems he doesn’t need to ask the question aloud for Ae-cha to intuit his concerns. Judging by the drier, more humouring smile to touch her expression a moment later, he's not masking his emotions especially well.

“Don’t worry Mr Choi. With the amount you’re paying I’m sure we can arrange a re-delivery after you surprise your—I’m sorry, who was this for again? Your wife, girlfriend? I don’t think you disclosed that detail over the phone.”

“It’s for my personal assistant actually.” Seungcheol blurts out, before he can rethink it.

It sounds awfully suggestive as soon as he hears the words hanging in the air, and he looks down at his shoes, wondering if he should elaborate further.

“He works really hard you know, and I wanted to show my gratitude.”

Ae-cha seems puzzled by the remark, “By buying him a giant Hello Kitty plushie on Valentine’s day?”

“Well, yeah, you got a problem with that?”

Ae-cha stares at him like he’s crazy even though her words are much more tempering, “No, I’m just surprised is all. A gesture such as this, and on Valentine’s day of all days, is kind of sending a very specific message. The kind of message employers don’t often send to their employees.”

Seungcheol eyes her cautiously, “And what message would that be?”

Ae-cha releases a breath of nervous laughter. “That you _love_ them.”

Seungcheol halts a relieved grin by biting his cheek, “Right. Okay. So I’m thinking you can just display this in the lobby?”

* * *

Jihoon can’t see what the commotion is about. It’s late in the evening and he’s trying to leave work, but all the elevators seem to be in use, and when he finally manages to make it down the emergency stairs to the ground floor, there’s a huge group of people gathered in the corridors, blocking the entrance into the lobby.

Everyone should be gone by now. Back to their homes and lives and families, but they’re all hanging around outside lobby for some reason, whispering amongst themselves, holding their phones up high to take a picture of something Jihoon can’t catch a glimpse of. He figures there has been a terrible accident or something, that someone has been injured and the lobby needs to be cordoned off. Except that people keep whispering his name and _grinning_ at him.

Him and only him. Which is more than a little worrying.

"Jihoon! Hey!" Jihoon hears Seungkwan’s voice call out to him, but can't immediately pick his friend out of the milling crowd until a hand slaps down on Jihoon's forearm. “Oh my god, there you are. How on Earth are you going to get home?”

Jihoon manages a small, if somewhat perplexed smile, “On the subway? Like I always do?”

"C’mon, there’s no way you’re going to drag that thing down the subway steps," Seungkwan grins, playfully smacking Jihoon's shoulder. "I don’t even know how they managed to get it through the lobby doors. There must be a maintenance entrance or something. Or maybe they dropped in in through the _ceiling_."

"Dropped what through the ceiling?" Jihoon manages, still holding onto the smile.

"Oh," Seungkwan says, disappointed. "You haven't seen it yet."

"Haven't seen what?" Jihoon asks, but Seungkwan’s already clapping a hand over his mouth and scurrying away.

This gets repeated, over and over again. By Choon-Hee, by Vernon, by Jeonghan. By _the Janitor_. Even by people Jihoon has never spoken to. Half of the Accounts department stop chatting amongst themselves to turn and _stare_ at him with gleaming, expectant eyes, and it makes Jihoon so paranoid he actually cranes his neck to check there isn’t an embarrassing note stuck on his back again.

It's not until Junhui walks up to him and says, too dismissive, “Alright little man, I guess it’s safe to say you won Valentine’s day,” that Jihoon stops self-consciously checking his reflection in every reflective surface he can find.

"I—I have no idea what you’re talking about, Junhui." Jihoon says, because it's always best to be honest when you have no idea what's going on. If it’s important, someone will usually explain it to him eventually.

Though Junhui simply rolls his eyes as if he thinks Jihoon's being confusing on _purpose_. "Yeah, yeah, I know, Valentine’s day isn’t a competition for you, yadda yadda. Still though, you have to admit it’s a pretty spectacular gift. It must have cost a fortune. Who sent it to you?”

Jihoon blinks, his mouth fighting the natural instinct to smile when he feels lost, “But I—I didn’t get any Valentine’s gifts today.”

Junhui laughs; then, when he realizes Jihoon isn't joking, looks confused.

"Have you seriously not _seen_ it yet?”

“Oh my god, seen _what_? Why do people keep saying that to me?”

Jihoon yelps as Junhui grabs his hand and pulls him, shoving his way through the densely packed crowd blocking the lobby entrance into one of the empty conference rooms. He barely gets a chance to blink let alone ask Junhui what the hell he’s doing, before they’re bursting into the lobby from the other side and joining a crowd of people gathered around a—

Oh—oh.

Oh, _wow_.

That’s definitely not anything he was expecting to see today. He blinks a few times, and then flat-out stares, and then the blood begin to rush to his face from as far away as his toes. Even the tips of his ears feel hot. He forces himself to keep his distance though, to remain upright, forces his suddenly weak legs to continue to hold him, and not let him slither to the floor like he's forgotten how bones work. Because there’s no way this can be right.

It must be some kind of mistake, or a misspelling. Or maybe there’s another Jihoon in this building, working for Choi Corp, because there’s no way that giant 9-foot Hello Kitty plushie towering over everyone and everything in the lobby is for _him_. Even if the giant heart balloon it’s holding has his name on it, and exactly how he spells it too.

Jihoon’s pretty much resigned himself to the idea of that ungrateful cow _Jiwoon_ stepping forward to claim his gift, so it comes as rather a surprise when the security guard standing atop the reception desk points straight at him, and a polite voice inquires, “Are you Lee Jihoon?”

Turning his head, Jihoon comes face to face with a very official looking woman, dressed in a two-piece business suit with the Sanrio logo emblazoned on the jacket pocket. Jihoon is pretty sure he should say something in greeting here, but shock has locked his voice in his throat and all he can do is stare. He only remembers to close his mouth some seconds after the she leans in to squint at the ID badge on his lanyard.

“Oh good, it is you. I was beginning to worry you’d already left.” She smiles, then seemingly out of thin air, produces a clipboard and pen and holds them out, “Please sign your name on the dotted line and confirm your home address for redelivery. The delivery truck is waiting outside, whenever you’re ready to go.”

Pen hovering over the clipboard, Jihoon's brows come together. “Did—did I win some kind of competition?”

“Not exactly.” The woman says, the soft look in her eyes at odds with the navy crispness of her uniform.

Numbly, blindly, Jihoon scrawls his name, and then the woman whisks the clipboard away, only to replace it with a large, flat envelope.

“Happy Valentine’s day Mr Lee.”

Jihoon takes the envelope, shocked fingers tighten around the thick piece of card inside. Carefully, with what feels like a hundred pairs of eyes watching him, he unseals tears it open and pulls out a…….completely blank card?

 _Huh_ —Jihoon thinks, turning it over in his hands— _that’s weird._

Belatedly, he thinks to open it, hands scrabbling in his hurry, and that’s when he sees it—[the Eiffel Tower](https://66.media.tumblr.com/38db6bf539bc9646e727ef557af77663/29b93c54a05d48d4-f7/s250x400/6bac1fc403409ecb386dd965f424788226cb1a4b.jpg), emerging from the centre in tiny intricate folds of paper, and the note, in that slanted, familiar handwriting.

_Eiffel for you Peanut._

* * *

“So Jihoon just passed out in the lobby. Twice.” Jisoo announces, entering Seungcheol’s office without so much as a knock, “We considered calling an ambulance, but apparently that’s a regular thing for him.”

Smiling is probably not the most appropriate reaction to that news, but Seungcheol can't quite help himself, because Jihoon fainting in response to his gift is the best news he’s heard all day. He did it—his Valentine gift if officially a success, and that’s gratifying as hell. In fact, he’s tempted to fist pump the air in victory, but he thinks that would be too much. He doesn't want to look like he's completely lost his fucking mind.

“Oh, dear. What happened? Is he okay?” He asks, somehow managing to sound quite concerned even though his smile hasn’t slipped an inch.

Jisoo’s jaw flexes visibly as he crosses the room to stand in front of Seungcheol’s desk, “Don’t even try that with me Seungcheol. I know it was you who got him that ginormous eyesore in the lobby.”

Seungcheol gives him his best innocent look. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

Jisoo presses his lips together, looking torn between anger and amusement. “So you’re really going ahead with this. You’re still adamant on pursuing this relationship, despite how inappropriate it is?”

Seungcheol is familiar with Jisoo’s disapproval—he’s known the man a very long time, and he knows him well enough to sense when he should elaborate and when he should deflect. But the look on Jisoo’s face is different this time, like he’s given up trying to put a professional spin on things, and really, all things considered, there’s no hope of keeping up a pretence here.

“Don’t be mad just because nobody got _you_ anything for Valentine’s day.” Seungcheol smiles back faintly.

Jisoo splutters and crosses his arms tightly over his chest, “I’ll have you know I did get something _actually_. It was perhaps a little too personal and inappropriate, but it was addressed to me nevertheless, and I appreciated the gesture. It’s the thought that counts after all.”

Seungcheol taps his fingers thoughtfully against the desk. A thought begins to grow in the back of his mind, a suspicion he can't quite believe is even possible. “Oh god—it was a kink kit, wasn’t it?”

Face red, Jisoo’s tongue pushes out his cheek on one side. “How the hell did you know about that?”

Seungcheol shrugs in the blank canvas way he's perfected for just such moments as these. “Just a wild guess.”

* * *

Jihoon’s too busy being happy to feel any sort of embarrassment over passing out in the lobby. Even if he fainted twice, and in front of _everyone_ , and woke up to find the security guard shining a light in his eye and Junhui trying to perform mouth to mouth and Seungkwan screaming for someone to call ambulance.

Okay, so maybe he’s a _teensy_ bit embarrassed about it, but he’s resolved not to care because Seungcheol…..Seungcheol actually got him something for Valentine’s Day. Which is…Oh my God.

This is _huge_.

The hugest thing that's ever happened to him. 

He feels faint just thinking about it all, and not just because he’s now in possession of the largest Hello Kitty Plushie ever made. Oh no. The Plushie _is_ amazing, no doubt about that. Jihoon hugs it for an entire hour when he finally gets it home, and all the other plushies are jealous. Even Beret Berry. Jihoon figures a plushie that big means Seungcheol has to like him at least a little bit. Maybe. But it’s the _card_ more than anything that really leaves him breathless.

He’s never been gifted anything as special as this, nothing so personal, and from the absence of markings on the back, he can tell it’s handmade. A special Valentine designed just for him. By Seungcheol of all people.

 _Wow_.

Who knew his boss was so _crafty_. He could teach Jihoon a thing or two with those mad card making skills.

Even Seokmin was impressed when Jihoon showed it to him, and spent a moment studying it before saying, “Woah, this guy really, really, like _really_ wants to bone you, huh?” at which point, Jihoon declares it’s time for bed and flees the room.

He mounts the card on his bookshelf and stretches out on his new bed, Berry Beret tucked under his chin, when it occurs to him, he hasn’t even _thanked_ Seungcheol yet. With all the commotion of passing out and getting his Valentine gift home, he totally forgot to even message the guy a simple _thank you._

Jolting upright in bed, he reaches for his phone, opting at the last second to just call instead of text. A message seems a little too impersonal right now, and even though it’s late, he expects Seungcheol will still be wide awake; his boss never knows when to take a break—he’s probably taken his work home with him, has it spread out across the coffee table, planning to work late into the night. What Jihoon doesn’t expect is for Seungcheol to answer on the first ring.

"Hey."

Seungcheol’s voice is deep, like velvet in her ear, and just that one word sounds so breathtakingly intimate it gives Jihoon a warm, liquid feeling in his stomach.

Since when did he affect him that way?

 _Since always_ —a little voice inside his head says. A really annoying voice.

“Oh, uhm, hi!” Jihoon begins, tripping over his words a little. “Uhm, I’m sorry, I hope I’m not disturbing you. I know it’s late, and you’re probably really busy, but I just couldn’t go to sleep without thanking you for my lovely Valentine gift.”

Seungcheol gives a soft, breathy laugh, that Jihoon feels all the way through him.

“How do you know it was from me?”

Jihoon’s tentative a smile flares into full brilliance as he glances at the card again, “Honestly, I wasn’t sure at first, because almost everyone knows how much I love Hello Kitty. But then I opened the card and I knew right away. It’s a really special card Seungcheol—I’ve never seen anything like it. I’m going to get a frame to display it in my room, so I can pretend I’m back in Paris every time I look at it.” He says honestly, delighted when Seungcheol laughs knowingly

“I’ll take you back there one day Peanut. I promise.”

Jihoon make a tiny, involuntary, unintelligible noise of happiness. He bites his lip, unsure of how to proceed, then decides on honesty. “I—I had a card for you actually. But I was too embarrassed to give it to you.”

“I know, I’m looking at it.” Seungcheol says simply.

Jihoon gasps, and stares at his phone for what feels like a full five minutes before: 

“But how? I threw it away.” He answers in a rather undignified squeak.

Seungcheol chuckles quietly in return. “I’m sorry, what was that? Meow mew mew mew mew?”

Jihoon blushes deeply, adding embarrassment to his already brimming pool of emotions. Taking a deep breath, he attempts to speak more slowly this time, “I said—how did you get your card when I’m pretty sure put it in the trash?”

A breath of laughter, the hint of Seungcheol's you're-adorably-dense smile. “I fished it out. Couldn’t have the only Valentine’s card I’ve ever gotten get tossed away like that.”

“What?” Jihoon gasps, disbelieving, “You’ve never had a card before?”

He can’t imagine it for some reason. Certainly one of Seungcheol’s lovers in the past had been thoughtful enough? Certainly _one_ of them had treated Seungcheol the way he ought to be treated? Or had they all thought, like Jihoon did, that he wouldn’t have liked it?

“Guess I don’t do myself any favours.” Seungcheol says quietly, almost sheepishly, “But I didn’t mean what I said, you know, about Valentine’s day. I just—it’s just a speech I have memorised for why I don’t celebrate it. A defence mechanism, cause it makes me feel better about not having anyone to celebrate this stuff with.”

Jihoon sighs, saddened yet unspeakably relieved by that tiny chink in Seungcheol's armour. “You can celebrate stuff with me, you know. I like celebrating things.” He says, then is horrified with himself for sounding so pitying.

But Seungcheol just chuckles warmly, like he’s pleased. “That’s why you’re my favourite person Peanut.”

Jihoon feels a tiny shiver cresting down his spine at that. He desperately wishes he could think of something to say that won’t make things awkward. He doesn’t know exactly what Seungcheol means by that, and he’s afraid of reading too much into it. Even though it’s said so warmly and sweetly, there’s still too much he can’t assume.

A long pause follows, in which he has about twenty impulses—giggling, sobbing, passing out—all following in such quick succession that he ends up staying absolutely still, feeling the magnitude of those words resound inside.

“I hope you managed to fit your new plushie through the front door.” Seungcheol finally says, when the silence threatens to get genuinely uncomfortable.

“Oh, I did. The delivery team were really helpful sorting it all out. And Seokmin helped me dismantle my bed after.” Jihoon says, lightness returning as the gears in his brain finally manage to click back into motion. 

“Oh shit!” Seungcheol groans, “You actually had to dismantle your bed? I knew it was too big. Where the hell are you going to sleep?”

“ _Guess_.” Jihoon grins, grinning all the more as he listens to Seungcheol break into active laughter over the phone.

“Seriously? You turned that thing into a _bed_?” He asks, sounding a little impressed.

Jihoon nods proudly, then verbalizes, “It’s big enough. It’s bigger than my bed actually, and it’s super comfy too. Like sleeping on a giant marshmallow. I love it.”

A long pause follows. Finally, Seungcheol speaks again. “Are you in bed _now_?”

Jihoon can’t help but squirm a little.

If the extra layer of suggestion behind that simple question wasn’t enough, Seungcheol’s voice, so low and rough, and oh god, so deep is definitely… _doing things_ to Jihoon. Things that aren't remotely appropriate when he’s on the phone to his boss, things that are even a little dangerous when he’s curled up on his new bed, half naked.

“Yeah.”

Seungcheol's voice takes on a distinctly teasing quality. “Maybe you could send me a picture.”

“Okay,” Jihoon murmurs, and the part of his chest that had gone so still only moments earlier now breaks into terrified flutters. “Maybe I will.”


End file.
